


Operation Sinkhole

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Series: Ghosts of Sera [1]
Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Relationship, Canon-Typical Emotional Constipation, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Grief/Mourning, LGBT headcanons of all kinds, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, gay dinosaur cuddling, they/them pronouns for God
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: A devastating attack forces Myrrah to choose diplomacy over war. Ten years later, a new Lambent monster threatens the tenuous peace. Humanity and Horde must cooperate if both are to survive, but not everyone sees the light of reason...Skorge receives a vision of impending doom, and leaves his self-imposed prison in Lower Nexus to warn Zamil RAAM. Demons from his past resurface to torment him anew, but strength can be found in pain--strength he’ll need to survive.Elain Fenix dies while researching Lambency. When things don’t add up, Adam begins to think her death is more than random tragedy. His search for truth leads him to a horrifying revelation, one that could change the fate of Sera and all her inhabitants.Things are about to get really weird.





	1. Hours of Desperation (Or: How to Prevent the End of the World)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this since January and i'm almost done with the third fic in this series (there's gonna be four!) so i was like shit i better start posting it. this is the big thing i allude to sometimes, the AU that's absorbed most of my life since i got back into the fandom in like 2015/16. i've posted it a couple times before with wildly different titles and plots and main characters, but i'm glad those didn't work out because now Ukkon exists and it would have been criminal to not include him. i hate Ukkon.
> 
> i'm scared because i don't have the best track record with these things but i REALLY want to get this out there before Gears 5 comes out and i'm hoping this will motivate me. once everything's said and done i'll have about 400k to edit and that's going to take an ungodly amount of effort. i have approximately 275k written as of right now.
> 
> this is the only portion of it that's good enough for posting.
> 
> i'm gonna die.
> 
> but i'll have Tons of Fun until then.

**PROLOGUE**

 

Atop Shibboleth, everything looked small. Karn’s blight swarmed around her legs, resembling pale insects from his perspective. Sitting a hundred feet above them and the lights they carried, he was in almost total darkness. The only sound that reached him was the slow drumbeat of Shibboleth’s legs against stone. Their pace was almost relaxed, because they hadn’t seen battle for days.

Despite that, Karn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him from the shadows. His Locust eyes were good in low light, but there were some areas, high above and to the sides, that were pure black. He told himself he was just being jumpy. Somewhere in his brain was an ancient animal that got eaten by things lurking in the dark, and it didn’t want to take chances. That was the logical explanation.

This tunnel was one straight path for miles, and the vegetation grew thick in many places, creating a nearly constant haze of bluish light. There were no faults that could be used by stalks, and no branching paths for another several miles. Behind them lay areas that had already been scoured and scoured thrice again, because that way lay most of the nurseries and, at the end of the road, the entrance to Nexus. If any Lambent hid there, they would have been purged, either by Karn or one of the other patrol groups.

It made no sense for him to fear.

He halted Shibboleth and listened for a moment to prove to himself that everything was fine. Shibboleth drew her legs in and growled at anyone who got too close. She could pick up on his feelings, but whether she was expressing her own displeasure or trying to be protective of him, he didn’t know.

There was a heavy rumbling, not unlike a Corpser. Dust fell from above. The quake was over in a couple of seconds but another came right after, slightly louder and harder. He heard a distant disturbance among the Drones. They’d realized it too; there were no digging operations here, nor wild Corpsers. Whatever made that noise wasn’t supposed to be here, and that meant it was likely a threat.

“Ready!” he shouted. “Whatever the _fuck_ is coming through that wall better get shredded!” There was commotion below as maags and vurls prepared for battle. They should have had more forewarning, but earlier quakes must have gone unnoticed beneath Shibboleth’s movements. Karn had no time to consider his mistake.

It was like the entire world exploded. Shibboleth jerked sideways and sent Karn flying.

He struck the ground and rolled forever. Rocks stabbed him from all angles until he snapped against a rock. All the air and thought were gone from him and it was dark. For a long moment he thought he was dead, and when he realized he wasn’t, he took a breath. It was the second worst pain he ever felt.

The worst pain he ever felt came an instant later, when his brain finished tallying up the events of the last several seconds. His whole body ached, but the pain centered in his lower back, opening a door to incalculable agony. But his legs did not hurt.

His legs did not hurt whatsoever.

He heard gunfire, settling rock, and screaming.

Karn opened his eyes to a world that spun in a nauseating mess of light and color. He focused, and as the Inner Hollow stabilized he saw what happened.

There was a hole in the tunnel wall, large enough that Shibboleth could have walked through. Scores of Wretches and Lambent Drones poured out, cascading down a small mountain of rocky rubble. The men closest to the explosion had died under the collapsing wall, but there were some survivors and they were being picked off by their former brothers. Men further away from the hole were retreating, shouting, and shooting.

Karn almost didn’t notice Shibboleth’s body pinned under the debris. Lambent landed on her, using her as a ladder to the ground, but paid her no heed. She was a stone to them. She made miserable noises, trying to pull herself out with her one remaining good leg. Her eyes, shining behind her shattered faceplate, somehow found him laying among the scree, and she scraped at the ground with increased fervor. She wasn’t that far away, but she wouldn’t be able to save her master, and he couldn’t ease her suffering. He looked away, unable to bear her pain on top of everything else.

Garish yellow light continued to gush from the hole, like pus from a wound. Karn patted his hips but found both of his Boltoks missing. A wave of bioluminescent death was closing on him and all he could do was watch.

He rose, and at first his battered hearts sunk with the resignation of impending death. Then he realized he was being pulled up by a Drone.

“Vold,” the Drone said. “We must retreat.”

“Agreed,” Karn coughed. He was slung over the Drone’s shoulders and had a sideways view of the world. His maggots were trying to fight even as they ran away, dozens of rifles bursting at glowing, hateful things. Black spots began to dance across his vision as he watched the battle, and he fought to not let the void claim him.

The Drone hefted themself over the uneven terrain, bouncing Karn against rough, hard armor. It helped him stay awake, but he had to grit his teeth down on his own screams.

A Reaver touched down in front of them, its front tentacles buckled so its rider was close to the ground. Karn was lifted by this other Drone, and he glanced back to see his rescuer drenched in blood—his blood.

The rider passed Karn to the gunner, who held him tightly and pressed thick hands against his body. The black dots in his vision blossomed into black seas. He couldn’t make out what the Drone was saying to him. It was like he was being pulled under dark water.

He always thought he would fight death until his body gave out on him, but at the moment all he wanted to do was sleep. Everything smelled like blood, but the Drone was warm and he was exhausted and in so much pain.

His last cognizant thought was that Lambent shouldn’t have been able to make holes that large. Lambent weren’t supposed to be here and there weren’t supposed to be that many. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t his fault.

 

♦

 

RAAM was the last to arrive to the council room. It was quiet, which, in his experience, was a bad sign. He stood at the table and tried to look like he wasn’t anticipating anything.

All the councilors were in their high-backed chairs. RAAM wasn’t happy to see Ketor Vrol again, but the Kantus’s expression was hidden as always. Uzil Sraak scowled at nothing in particular. Machinist Ukkon was asleep while Karn, who sat next to him, gently elbowed him to no avail. Vold Kaise stood next to RAAM, only the lower half of his face visible with his helmet on. He was curled over the table, tapping his fingers absently, but straightened when he noticed his fellow vold scrutinizing him.

“Just in time,” he muttered. “We’re about to pull out the party games.”

“I literally would not miss this for the end of the world,” RAAM replied. “I hope we play spin the bottle.” He gave a pointed glance at Sraak, who glared back as though offended by RAAM’s mere existence.

Kaise began to laugh and turned it into a cough instead.

From the darkness in the north side of the room came a sharp stomping, which did more to rouse Ukkon than Karn’s pinching and shaking. Everyone sat up nice and pretty while Queen Myrrah emerged from the shadows. She sat in the ornate throne at the head of the table and looked at the group, her eyes narrowed and appraising. “I trust you all have been keeping in good health. Whatever passes for good health these days.”

“We’re holding on, Your Majesty,” Sraak said.

“Some better than most,” Ukkon muttered.

“My queen, I have a question,” RAAM said. “Why am I here? And Kaise?”

“You do not wish to be?” Myrrah asked.

“It’s not that. We’re the lowest ranks present. I know Karn’s here because of Ukkon, but why two volds?”

“Kaise knows Nexus better than anyone,” Myrrah said. “And you were there, in the Inner Hollows. Your perspective will be important for today’s discussion.”

Before he could dwell on those words for long, she called for Vold Kaise to speak. He was short for a vold, and slender; hardly intimidating, but his voice was deep, smooth, and commanded attention.

“The city continues to degrade.” He fixed Sraak, across from him, in his gaze. “There are more stillborns every day. The longer the mothers live in this air, the more deformed the children become. If the trend continues, the stillborn rate will be fifty percent in a handful of weeks. In another season, we might not be having children at all.”

Sraak tensed, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at the Theron. It was like the rest of the room fell away for both of them, and they were the only ones present. Kaise wasn’t speaking for the queen’s benefit; he was talking to the uzil. RAAM prepared to take action, whatever Kaise might need of him.

“Our _containment measures_ have obviously been inadequate,” Kaise went on, his tone becoming sharper. “Our food stores are starting to run out in some districts and people are rioting. Killing each other. Soon they will bring their fighting to the palace.”

Myrrah raised a gloved hand. “What containment measures are you talking about, Kaise?”

“You worm-bastard,” Sraak growled, raking claws across the table. “You think before you answer her!”

Myrrah raised a brow. The uzil realized that was the wrong thing to say and cowered under her suspicious look. “Tell me, Kaise. It’s all right.”

RAAM saw the barest tremble in Kaise’s shoulders. Would it be right to touch him, at a time like this? Before he could take that chance, the Theron took a deep steadying breath and opened his mouth.

“Killing the sick, my queen. Strict quarantines for anyone with even the slightest signs of symptoms that could look like Lambency.” The strength seemed to run out of him as he spoke. He had been building himself up to this moment, RAAM realized. Kaise had wanted to talk about this for a while.

Which meant it had been going on for a long time indeed.

Multiple sets of eyes turned on Sraak. He pushed himself away from the table and started to stand, but sank back into the chair with a heavy sigh. His scales were dull and his muscles were unusually lean. He wasn’t at the age yet where his body would start to destroy itself; malnourishment had stricken even him, and it made his bullying more difficult.

“So?” the uzil grunted. “It worked a little, didn’t it? What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me that you were authorizing the killing of citizens, for one thing,” Myrrah replied sharply, making him flinch. It didn’t matter that she was the second smallest in the room. Everyone here feared her. “Secondly, are you saying that the Lambent infection might enter the city, even with the gates closed?”

Kaise nodded. “We don’t understand how it works, my queen...but I’ve seen some very sick men—and Berserkers—the past few weeks, and I believe they could have been in the early stages of Lambency. We would take them...put them up somewhere and then we…”

“I’ve heard enough. Sraak, this was a gross oversight on your part.”

“I know, my queen,” he said, averting his eyes.

“You’re lucky I don’t get rid of you.”

“I know…”

“It would destabilize us too much, and that’s far from what we need now.” Myrrah scowled, but after a second her expression became mild again as she put that miserable business out of her mind. “So, we know how the situation is in the city. We even know something new, thanks to Vold Kaise. In a way, his impromptu confessional was good, because I believe it is time for more drastic, radical action.”

It was quiet. Maybe everyone’s minds were wandering thanks to malnutrition and lack of sleep, or maybe the question was just that hard to answer.

“What action, Your Majesty?” Ukkon asked.

“I don’t know.” Myrrah gestured to the room in general. “That’s why I’ve brought all of you here.”

Silence fell again. _She must be thinking of leaving Nexus,_ RAAM thought. _Why else would she want my point of view?_ It would be very like Myrrah to know what she wanted, but to patiently dredge for criticism or better ideas from her council. The logistics of such a move boggled his mind, and he wasn’t sure it was physically possible.

“Do not fear my or anyone else’s reaction,” the Queen said. “Speak. Anyone.”

“Well…” Kaise glanced at RAAM. “He took care of himself in the Hollows, didn’t he?”

Vrol whipped his metallic head around. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe we need to leave Nexus and take our chances in the wilds. If RAAM and Skorge can live wandering the Inner Hollow, injured, then I think we can—”

“No! It’s heresy! You would abandon our holy city!”

Kaise frowned at Vrol. “This city is poisoning itself. We’re trapped! We resign ourselves to a slow, terrible death if we stay here.”

“The Gods will not allow us to perish,” the ketor said, lifting his head proudly. “In Their wisdom, They allowed those two wayward children to wander alone, and returned them to us after eight weeks. They were found in a state not much better than death. Clearly, the Gods intended to show us that it would be unwise to venture into the wilds.”

“That’s obtuse,” Ukkon said. “Why not tell Skorge directly? Doesn’t he talk to them or something?”

“The Gods are mysterious.”

“Of course.” Ukkon smirked. “So mysterious it looks like stupidity.”

“What did you say?” Vrol snapped.

“Your reasoning is stupid,” Ukkon said, emphatically drumming his fingers against the table with each syllable. “Of course that’s what I meant, since I don’t think gods exist in the first place and therefore are neither intelligent nor stupid. I could just as easily say RAAM and Skorge surviving in the Hollows is a sign that we _should_ leave. They didn’t have anything out there, but we can take provisions, make a plan.”

Sraak glanced between them. “We can’t just pack up and leave,” he said, with an uncharacteristically careful tone. “It isn’t safe enough for everyone.”

“And you care about that,” Kaise whispered, low enough for only RAAM to hear.

Sraak had grandchildren on the way, RAAM suddenly remembered. For once, the uzil was thinking. Desperate times truly did call for desperate measures.

“And we can hardly defend ourselves,” Vrol added.

“Those are good points.” Ukkon shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We can’t defend against what’s in here,” Kaise said, his voice hot. “We don’t have to go out through the Highway. There are back tunnels. We can transport people by barge. If there are Lambent that way, there aren’t many.”

Vrol banged a fist on the table. He was wheezing from how hard he was trying to breathe through his suit’s vents. “The Gods will kill us if we abandon the city, by Lambent or some other method. Queen Myrrah! You cannot listen to this heretic.”

Myrrah looked tired. “I know what this city means to us, Vrol, and it is not anyone’s intention to disrespect that meaning. Is it, Kaise?”

“I would not abandon our city, my queen. I would outlive it.”

“We cannot needlessly cling to our emotions, Vrol. We must consider what would best ensure our survival as a species, even if that means leaving Nexus behind and never looking back.”

“I support leaving Nexus,” Ukkon said.

“But the uzil has a point,” Karn spoke up. His voice was almost startling, as he hadn’t made a noise the entire time. “How are people like me going to get around?”

“Reavers or ‘mounts,” RAAM said automatically. “Berserkers are an entire issue themselves, but you would not be left behind, Karn.”

“I don’t think we have enough animals for something like that.”

Ukkon tapped his chin. “I think he’s right. We started killing them for food, remember.”

Kaise huffed. Another hole had been opened in his plan.

“Then other people will carry you,” RAAM said. “I could carry like six of you. On one arm.”

“Ah, thank...you...vold.” Karn looked almost embarrassed and stared down at his lap.

“If we were to leave Nexus,” Myrrah said, ignoring the squawking coming from Vrol’s direction, “what is the best way to do so?”

The council carried on in that direction while RAAM thought to himself. People suggested various methods of leaving the city. They could send scouts out first, to draw the Lambent away, then bring the main population out. Several groups could leave at different times and in different directions, to divide the Lambent’s attention. They could leave through the narrow and uncharted back tunnels, as Kaise suggested, and hope nothing too evil lurked in that darkness.

Everyone, save for the silent Vrol, proposed every single direction except what RAAM thought would be the most obvious one. He raised his hand, but Myrrah had to notice him and do the same so the men would be quiet. “What if, instead of the Inner Hollow,” he started, “we went _somewhere else_? Somewhere free of Lambent?”

For a long moment, nobody spoke and instead stared at him, in shock or awe or maybe pity. It sounded insane to him, so he could only guess how deranged it was to others.

“The surface,” Vrol mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Insanity,” Sraak balked. “We cannot fight a war in our condition.”

“Maybe we don’t have to fight,” RAAM said. “We can surface somewhere unpopulated. There aren’t that many left of us. We’d be easy to hide.”

“And I’m sure the humans would love to find us hiding in their backyards,” Sraak sneered.

“What other choice do we have? I lived in the Hollows, and I could do it again, but it’s not a good way to live. A big group of Locust would attract Lambent the way glowfruit attracts rockworms. There are vicious humans on the surface. Either way we’re fighting for our lives. At least humans can’t turn us into monsters.”

“I’d like to say something again,” Karn said. He looked around, finding multiple people staring at him. “Why don’t we...ask them for help?”

Myrrah laughed. It was a sound like ice breaking. “Excuse me?”

“Even beings as mysterious as humans must want something. Don’t they use Imulsion for fuel? We’ve got plenty of that lying around.”

“You want us to appeal to the groundwalkers,” Myrrah said.

“We can’t fight. If we try to hide ourselves, we’ll be found. If we can give the humans a reason to not kill us, they could be our greatest ally.”

The queen was shaking her head.

“Of course,” Karn said, grinning defensively, “you are the one most suited to this task.”

Myrrah lifted a brow. “You’re suggesting I negotiate with humans and convince them to save us.”

“Yes.”

Myrrah looked around, then leaned back in her throne. “I don’t hear any objections towards this idea.”

Vrol visibly squirmed, and Sraak’s frown continued to carve newer depths into his face. Neither of them spoke.

“I’m skeptical that humans would help us,” RAAM said. “But it’s no more or less insane than anything else.”

“I agree,” Ukkon said. “I mean, why not? We’re probably going to die anyway. And I heard humans like science a lot. Cutting things open, _et cetera_. They might want to keep us alive just for that.” He sounded optimistic enough.

“How many are in favor?” Myrrah asked.

RAAM knew his answer before she posed the question, and raised his hand immediately. Kaise, Karn, and Ukkon agreed. Sraak and Vrol were still, and at least one of them was glaring at Karn.

“I see,” Myrrah mused. “Well, I do try to be democratic. I did say I wanted radical action. I will be truthful; I am not confident in humanity’s kindness. Of us, I am the only one who has had personal experience with them, and those are memories I would rather not have. But if it is agreed that this is the best course of action, I will use those memories to my advantage.

“You’re all dismissed. Uzil Sraak, come with me; I need your help planning my...trip.”

The huge Drone bowed his head as if in defeat. “Yes, your majesty.” He followed her out of the chamber, melting into the darkness.

Vrol was the third out of the room. He practically threw himself down an adjoining tunnel to be away from the heathens. Ukkon worked himself out of the chair, stood on his feet, and swayed.

“That certainly did just happen,” he said. “But I don’t have time to discuss it. I’ve so much to do. Are you coming, Karn?” He spoke while walking on stilt-like legs towards an archway. It was hard to notice since he wore such voluminous clothing, but he too was much skinnier than RAAM remembered.

“I’ll catch up with you.” Karn rolled around the table and approached the two volds. “That was a bold idea, Vold RAAM.”

“The Queen wanted bold.”

“Yes, and you inspired me to speak up as well. You’re so much more useful than the uzil.”

“Not much of a compliment, considering...”

Karn laughed. “...Hey, Vold Kaise, you look sick.”

Kaise did, indeed, look unwell. “I’m fine. Er, I’ll be fine eventually. I’m actually not doing well at the moment.”

“Does it have to do with what you said?” RAAM asked.

Kaise nodded. “It’s like looking at a healing wound. It starts to hurt again, you know?”

“You won’t have to do that ever again,” RAAM said. “Myrrah will make the humans help us. They have medicine far beyond ours.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“For the record,” Karn said, “I think it’s a stupid plan. Going to the surface and talking to them.”

“But...you came up with it.” RAAM frowned at him.

“Yes. I still think it’s stupid. It’s just marginally less stupid than all the other shit we could do.” Karn started turning around. “I’d better find the mad genius. He won’t remember to drink water without me. That’s not a joke, don’t laugh.”

Kaise stepped forward. “If the humans decide not to help us, and try to finish us off instead, is there truly nothing we can do?”

“We can do something. We just wouldn’t win. Bye, you two. Try to stay alive.” He continued rolling down the path taken by Ukkon.

Kaise and RAAM were alone now. “I think it will work,” the helmeted Theron said. “I believe in them. In humanity.”

RAAM scoffed. “You’ve never even seen one.”

“If their technology is more advanced than ours, then their society must be as well. I don’t think they’ll hurt us.” Kaise started on his own path down a hall adjacent to Karn’s, and RAAM followed him, having nowhere in particular to be. “After all, we wouldn’t hurt them.”

“I literally suggested war.”

“And it was shot down by a more peaceful solution.”

Their footsteps echoed in the corridor, the lit braziers making their shadows dance on the walls. This hallway would take them in the general direction of the Reaver stables, and then both of them would return to their posts to prepare for this upcoming change. They had to make sure their own maggots knew what was going on. Getting the people to accept this would be tricky.

Less than sixty weeks ago, nobody thought the surface might be their only hope. Humanity was a mysterious presence lingering above everyone’s heads, and the truth of their existence wasn’t even a universal belief. RAAM didn’t expect his own suggestion to come out of him, and had never given humans a second thought before today.

The world of one season ago felt like a distant dream; so much happened so quickly...

“By the way, have you heard from Skorge?” Kaise asked, as if able to read his thoughts—knowing Kaise, maybe that was possible.

“He’s alive,” RAAM muttered. “I’m able to get that much from him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Maybe meeting with the humans will change things for him too.”

“It’ll give him hope,” Kaise said, walking a little more proudly. “If we have hope, we’ll survive...right? We’ll survive the Lambent and the humans.”

“We won’t know until we know.” RAAM sighed. “That’s just the way it is.”


	2. Skorge Is the Name of a Dubstep Youtuber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Skorge both receive some less-than-good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nano's killing me and i barely edited this and it's midnight. sorry
> 
> i'm not joking, by the way, there is a real dubstep artist who actually calls themself Skorge and i've never listened to their stuff because i'm a little afraid of them

Adam stood in the break room, wondering if being forced to watch the news constituted workplace abuse.

“What none of these people want to admit is,” Mahoney was saying, red-faced from heat or anger or both, “the Locust are taking advantage of us, of our genorosity! The UIR doesn’t do this much for them.”

A dark-haired man, seated on the other end of the couch, nodded. “What would you say the reason is? What’s the end-game here?”

“Obviously, the grubs are working with the UIR to weaken us.”

The break room was mostly empty, but he didn’t want to turn the channel in case one of his colleagues was somehow enjoying themself. Gallop News was stupid, but he wasn’t that frustrated—he had other things on his mind.

“I totally agree. Just—just look at all the resources we give them. Food, medicine, even _clothes_. And they give us, what? Gems? Ha ha! Like we need diamonds, or rubies, or emeralds. We can get those things out of the ground ourselves.”

“Right. It screws with our economy. We’re too nice to tell them to take care of themselves, and then some people want us to do more for them. What do you want us to do, _give blood_?”

“It’s all part of the extremist environmentalist agenda. We’re teaching children, literal children, that humans are evil, so anything inhuman must be good—” The diatribe was suddenly replaced with a soap opera, a shot of a blonde white woman crying— _Days of Our Children’s Hospitals_ , or something like that.

“God, even I can’t take it,” a woman intoned from the sofa. “That’s some shit they’re on.”

Another woman answered, “Yeah, I have a degree in climate science and I only teach my children _some_ humans are evil.”

Adam checked the clock on the wall and downed the rest of his coffee, so it would hit him before two. A colonel was coming to the DRA, wanting to speak to him in particular, and he didn’t know why. He would need all the help he could get for the rest of the afternoon.

Since it was already five thirty, there was no need to wait around any longer. Whatever little he could do with his remaining time could wait. He was anxious that he might take a wrong turn and need the extra time just to get to the right place.

The DRA was sprawling on the outside. It didn’t look it from outside because entrance was only permitted from one side, and the building was longer than wide. He remembered the directions acutely—he’d practically studied them—but had the nagging sensation that he had recalled a detail wrong or something. Despite his years at this place, he didn’t often explore the building’s guts. Adam’s work was done in the first computer lab.

It turned out they had rooms specifically created for clandestine meetings. They were bland, flatly-lit cubes that resembled interrogation chambers but without the mirror. The subconscious association reminded him of his anxiety surrounding the appointment. Suppose he _did_ do something but didn’t realize it?

And only a colonel could confront him about it.

Adam sat at a white, plastic table and folded his hands on top of it. He tried not to dwell on assumptions, but still wanted to look innocent and non-threatening. For twenty minutes he sat and worried, and glanced at the wall clock roughly every thirty seconds. When the door opened, he flinched.

Colonel Loomis was a severe, slick-looking man of sixty or so. He entered through the opposite side of the room, turned to shut the door, turned again with his hands clasped behind his back, and took two steps forward. His posture was practiced and precise. This man exuded and demanded exactness.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Fenix,” Loomis said, sliding into the empty chair. “Today we are going to have a very important and secret conversation. I trust you’re up to date on your security measures.”

He hadn’t read the manuscripts in at least six months. “Yes. I have to say, colonel, this business makes me uneasy. I have bad nerves, you see. Please tell me now—does this concern my work in any way?”

“No. Why would it?”

“No reason,” Adam replied quickly. “It’s simply unusual for me to meet with someone of your rank. Rattles the cage, so to speak. It’s pretty obvious to me that something big is happening.”

“Big. Yes.” Loomis drummed a finger against the table. A tic? “What do you think about the Locust, doctor?”

Adam thought of the question for a few serious moments. This meeting didn’t need to be dragged on, so he went with his first instincts and opened with a shrug. “They’re all right I suppose. I’ve never met one myself, but my wife Elain works with them in the Outer Hollow. She says they’re no meaner or nicer than humans. Always has a funny story about them to tell me.”

“You communicate with her? In the Hollows?” Loomis’s hand gripped the edge of the table. “How often do you do this?”

“I get letters from her once or twice a month,” Adam said. “They have to be cleared by security first, so she can’t tell me anything sensitive. All I get are humorous anecdotes and status updates, I suppose you could say.”

Loomis relaxed, which meant he took his hands away from the table to settle them onto his lap. “What do you know about Lambency? Tell me how you understand it.”

“I know less than Elain, and she’s told me even she and her team don’t know much.” Now that the conversation had taken a technical turn, Adam felt more at ease as well. Nobody could get angry with him over facts. “To my limited understanding, all Locust have Imulsion in their cells, and on rare occasions the Imulsion starts multiplying at an exponential rate. That causes cell mutation not unlike cancer, but of course cancer doesn’t make things grow tentacles. The cerebrum gets scrambled by the rampant Imulsion, but some other parts of the brain remain intact, allowing the body to carry on living. After brain death, infected individuals can live for quite a while, controlled by base instinct and Imulsion itself. They’re basically glowing zombies.”

“You’re more or less correct. And you know there’s no cure for it.”

“No cure, no treatment, they’re not even sure about the cause.” Adam paused. “Has a cure been found?”

His mind raced down a corridor of thought—the COG in possession of the cure for Lambency, holding it over Queen Myrrah’s head to make _her_ do _their_ bidding for a change. Revenge for making them pull the plug on their ever-profitable war machine. Nobody knew how Myrrah had convinced Chairman Dalyell and the other politicians to aid her people, but the resentment was obvious and palpable, hanging over Tyran culture like smog used to hang over Ephyra in the days of fossil fuels.

Loomis shook his head without breaking eye contact. “That’s the problem. There is no cure, Adam. There never will be a cure.” He pausd to let that sink in. “Locust are going to keep getting sick and dying until none of them are left. The rate of infection is slowly increasing each year. Even the mutations are getting worse.”

Drudges used to be rare; Lambent Drones usually retained their shape until death. Now the majority of them reached the more dangerous and grotesque stage of the illness before passing on, and the claws on their tentacles were getting longer. Berserkers were growing bizarre tentacles from their backs as well. Adam knew that much from Elain, but he didn’t realize the depth of the situation.

“If there’s no cure,” Adam started, “then how can we prevent it?” He wondered briefly. Bringing Locust to the surface was absurd, and the public would never agree to it, but being away from Imulsion might help them. There was no cure, but maybe vaccines were possible?

The colonel leaned forward with a predatory glint shining in his eyes. Adam drew back. “We need to be able to kill them, Fenix.”

“What?”

“The COG needs a weapon capable of extinguishing the Locust race,” Loomis said. “They need to die before they become Lambent monsters.”

Adam moved his mouth but nothing came out. The thought was so absurd that his brain rejected it, refused to consider it. But the idea was out there, begging to be discussed. “Genocide? You want me to commit genocide?”

“It’s self-defense, doctor.” Loomis leaned back, the intensity of his gaze now resting on Adam. “You can do it, can’t you? I’ve seen the things you made for use in the Pendulum Wars. Shame they never saw battle.”

His skin was crawling. “Colonel, I’m sorry. You’ve just asked me to exterminate the Locust race. Did the Chairman ask for this?”

“Yes,” Loomis replied, tapping the table again. “The Chairman wants this. Everyone wants this, Fenix. Don’t you watch the news at all? People hate the grubs.”

“Is that it? Chairman Dalyell’s giving up on them to appeal to his voter base?” The world was spiraling. He couldn’t have heard what he thought he heard. Genocide? _Him_?

Loomis’s carefully controlled expression appeared to collapse. His features crumpled inward as he rose halfway from his chair. “He, and I, are thinking about what’s best for humanity. Those monsters need to be culled for our own safety—and besides…” Control seemed to come back to him and he sat down. “We don’t necessarily have to use this weapon right away. We can still attempt to find another solution.”

“But I shouldn’t get my hopes up.” Adam knew he should stop. Arguing with the government never worked. They got what they wanted, every time, and resistance didn’t matter in the material way. He could drop dead right now and they would just find someone else, probably at this same agency, and proposition them in the same way, through the same man, in the same room. The Locust were already doomed.

“What do you think we should do, Fenix?” That wild spark lighted in Loomis again, but this time he held the leash tighter. “Do we not have a right to protect our own interests? Our lives?”

“Of course we do. I’m sorry. It’s just that this is very sudden and shocking.”

“The Chairman will give the researchers more time to find a cure, but at some point we have to make a choice. Think of your sons, Fenix. What if Lambent come to the surface? Ephyra? Your house?”

“I want to protect people, colonel, I truly do. I want to stop the Lambent. If there is no cure…” He sighed. “They’re doomed anyway, right?”

“Exactly.” Loomis grinned. “Don’t think of it as genocide. Think of it as euthanasia.”

“A mercy killing. Yes, I understand your rationale now. It makes sense in the worst kind of way.”

“They were living on borrowed time when we made contact, Fenix. In another year or two they would have been extinct. We gave them more time than they could have ever hoped for.”

“How is this going to work?” Adam asked.

“You’re going to get a new lab,” Loomis said. “And a new team to help out. Everything’s on a strictly need-to-know basis so your assistants won’t know the full scope of the project. The Junior Chairman doesn’t know. Even the Chairman didn’t know until last week.”

Adam nodded along. It was a little surprising to hear that; so this was a military operation after all. He wondered if they had to tell Dalyell or if they involved him out of principle.

“Needless to say, don’t share details with anyone.” Loomis glanced at the wall and stood. “I have other appointments, doctor.” He stuck out his hand, and Adam took it as he rose from his own seat. “Your project starts tomorrow. Someone from the agency will acclimate you to your new work area.”

Adam rubbed his hand, now acutely sore. “All right. I have to ask. Why me?”

“You’re the best engineer we have,” Loomis said plainly. “There are a lot of powerful people who like you, Doctor Fenix. I suggest not disappointing them.”

Was that a threat? “I’ll do my best. For...for humanity.”

“For the COG.” Loomis nodded, seemingly pleased with himself about something. “Have a good evening, doctor. I’ll be in touch.” He left, and the room grew cold.

Adam rubbed little circles on the back of his right hand. It throbbed in sync with the pounding in his head. Genocide—euthanasia. What a joke. What a terrible fucking joke.

What made him angriest was that he would do it, and he’d do his best. He hurried out of the DRA, bursting through the door like something was chasing him. Someone staying late tried to greet him as he passed through the computer lab, and he barely mumbled in response. Outside, the air was clear and clean and the sky was starless. Night came early this time of year.

He cut through the lawn and jogged across the parking lot. Row three, that’s where he always parked. His black sedan was one of the only cars left and sat under a bright streetlight. Inside, he felt a little safer, isolated from the rest of Sera and surrounded by familiar smells. Jake had left a half-eaten candy bar somewhere and the chocolate permeated the air. Adam took too much comfort in it to be annoyed.

When he turned the car on, the radio started as well. Pop music jarred him from his thoughts for a few moments, until he turned it off. It wasn’t the right atmosphere for peppy four-chord songs. He wasn’t ready to start driving either, so he just sat there, taking the time to notice the way the car rumbled under and around him. Was it supposed to be this loud?

Was he deflecting? Adam sighed and put both hands on the wheel. Once he got home he could relax, or at least try to, and start climbing this mountain of bullshit that Loomis had heaped upon him. Genocide. Him.

A heavy feeling settled in the center of his belly. _That’s where guilt gets made,_ he thought.

 

♦

 

The gods called to him beside the river, drawing him towards a dark hole in the wall like a moth to a flame. Skorge felt it every time he came here, unable to look away despite the sick feeling in his stomach. Today, he took a step closer. It felt like a string was being pulled taut inside him, tighter the closer he approached. He knew when it would snap, and what that would do, and he pulled himself away.

He didn’t want to hear what they had to say. Behind him, he heard Skain splashing near the bank, and turned to watch. The river was wide and shallow, only a few dozen feet at its deepest, and Skain mostly liked to kick pebbles and watch the tiny fish. It was his favorite way to unwind after a day of work.

“What are you doing?”

“Fishing,” Skain said, kicking up an arc of water. Whatever he was trying to catch got away, and he was soaked.

“Bring a rod next time,” Skorge chuckled, while Skain trudged back to dry land.

“Not the same.” Skain rubbed his wet arm against his tunic and got it wetter.

“I want to go anyway.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Skorge said. “Tired.”

They walked along the bank. Skain looked at him, a brow raised. “Are you getting sick?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

They started walking up an incline, away from the river. The rush of water faded behind him and he became more aware of tinier noises in his environment; crawling insects, plant life moving under the insects, and four dull thudding heartbeats. Those were sounds he loved to hear.

 

♦

 

When they returned to their quarters, the others were in various stages of preparing for bed. Luce was under his blankets, Tial was changing into pajamas, and Dez was reading in a chair.

Nobody would guess Dez was Skain’s brother. Skain was broad and tall, easily the heaviest of them and the only Chimera Kantus. He had grey scales and lacked spurs. Dez was a typical Kantus by comparison, if short and fat.

“Have fun?” he asked.

“I tried to catch a fish,” Skain said. “It was too fast.”

“You were too slow.”

Skorge sat on his bed, his mind buzzing around the day’s events and his emotions. He felt vague and distant, like he was viewing himself from far above or below, so the details receded into an indistinct blur of sadness and anger. The space around his hearts was heavy.

He sensed someone staring at him and met Dez’s gaze. “Are you all right?” the shorter Kantus asked.

“I’m tired,” he said quickly.

“He’s been tired for a while,” Skain said unhelpfully.

“Maybe you’re getting sick, Skorge.”

Tial moved towards him swiftly. The Drone was going to be a doctor before an infection took his voice, and his training still showed through in such moments. Skorge had no chance of escape.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, drawing away from a thermometer Tial had produced from somewhere. “If I haven’t improved by morning I will submit to your examination. Right now I just...need rest.”

The mound of fabric under which Luce had nested himself rustled, and a skinny grey arm, his only arm, shot up. “Can you examine me, dear Tial, I feel horrible.”

Tial approached with thermometer in hand. Luce had his temperature, hydration levels, and eyes and mouth quickly assessed. When Tial nodded, indicating all was normal, Luce looked like he’d received bad news.

“Are you sure, because I really do feel quite sick.”

“I take it Antak’s not working tomorrow,” Dez said.

Luce glared. “You don’t know what it’s like, dating someone in a different department! Our schedules hardly ever sync up!”

“I’m in the same department,” Skain said, feigning offense. “I’m right here!”

“Yes, I adore you for that, but I need to see both of my lovers from time to time…”

“Like simultaneously? Not simultaneously, right?”

Luce glared, and Skain and Dez laughed. Skorge relaxed, glad for the distraction.

“Hey, what if I punched you?” Skain sounded worryingly serious.

Luce regarded him. “That’s tempting. Tial, how badly injured does someone have to be—”

“No!” Skorge scowled at Skain, who grinned back. “Just take time off.”

“But I want tickets.”

“He _wants_ to complain,” Dez said. “It is his favorite hobby.”

“You louse! You big-mouthed little dick-mite!”

“None of that invalidates my claim.”

The mattress sank as Skain sat down. “I don’t think the river’s that much fun anymore either.”

Skorge sighed. “It’s not the river, not exactly.” Dez and Luce were throwing verbal daggers at each other, and Tial’s attention was somewhere he couldn’t guess. He stood and moved to the window, beckoning Skain to follow. Outside, on the other side of a thin alley, was another lodge house. Most of the windows were blinded, but he could see shadows moving here and there. “Do you remember what I told you about my power?”

“The important things. You huff Imulsion and see worms and they say crass things at you.”

“That’s one way to put it…” Skorge paused. “There’s an Imulsion vein near the river and I can... _feel_...the gods call me when I’m near. They sense me, or I sense them. It’s been happening on all our walks for the past week.”

Skain leaned against the wall next to the window. “So you think the worms have a message for you? After all these years?”

“I don’t understand how they think or why they consider things important,” Skorge said wearily. “I don’t want it. I don’t care what it is. They can find someone else to bother.”

“Why don’t you want it?”

“They never say anything nice, for starters. It’s always death.”

Skain stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Doesn’t that make it more important to hear, then?”

Those were the words he didn’t want to hear—a logical, irrefutible argument for why he should disregard his personal feelings. Skorge looked away. “It’s not that easy. You know the story.”

“Yeah, and I know it’s not true. I also know _you_ know it’s not true.”

“I don’t want it.” Skorge pressed his forehead against the cool glass, a soothing sensation. “I don’t want to know when and how we’re all going to die and what’s going to kill us. There’s never anything I can do but watch while it happens and I hate it. Why even show me? What fucking good does it do? I hate it. _I hate it_.”

He hadn’t expected to say so much, but now he was spent. He glanced at Skain, not knowing what to expect, but he had a plain expression.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” he said.

“Thank you, anyway.” Skorge turned back to the room. The noise had died down, though Dez and Luce were still having an animated discussion about something. The debate went on until they admitted they were too tired to keep it up, and for legal reasons, both had to admit this at the same time.

Skorge lay back to back with Skain, staring out at the other beds. The only sounds were Luce’s snoring and Dez turning the pages of a book. Night was always like this, peaceful and secure, but Skorge was unsettled and couldn’t enjoy it. This quiet serenity could end in the blink of an eye, in a flash of flame and crashing sound.

He turned over and looked at Skain, perhaps the most precious and inexplicable part of his life. They had been together so long, and they were such a constant presence in each other’s lives, that Skorge sometimes forgot the force of his love. It scared him to have something he desperately needed to protect.

Skain was right; he needed to hear what was in the cave, if just to stop himself from going insane. He pushed the blanket off and jumped out of bed, all the bundled energy coming out of him at once. By the time Skain was rousing, Skorge was halfway through the door.

“What’s happen,” Skain mumbled.

“I’m going for a walk, don’t worry,” Skorge whispered, glancing at the sleeping forms of his friends. Only Skain had been disturbed.

“Mmma...kay.”

The halls were empty, and no sounds came from the other lodge rooms. Skorge forgot to pace himself, and was breathing deep from exertion before he got to the bottom floor. He forced his stride to slow and shorten, despite the new feeling of urgency that had grabbed him.

Day and night in the Hollows looked exactly the same, but they sounded different. Nobody was out, and most animals were asleep. The air grew cooler as the Imulsion inside the tunnels constricted into a more compact state. Locust, as a result, had evolved to get sleepy in response to cold. Skorge felt worse the longer he walked, but pushed himself to the crest of the hill, then down the path.

The hole was still there in the side of the cliff, beckoning him. He stopped at the edge where the dimness turned into darkness. Instead of being anxious, he was empty—devoid of sensation, like he had accepted that he was imminently dead. That could be the case, but he wouldn’t know until he was told. Whatever happened, he had himself to blame.

Skorge took the first step, then the second, and they became easier from there. He stopped when the darkness became absolute to let his eyes adjust. Dull gold light came from somewhere deeper in the tunnel, and he followed it. His insides were twisting up and he found it hard to breathe long before he smelled the Imulsion.

The tunnel abruptly narrowed and it was thanks to his small frame that he slipped through into a larger chamber. This area was still just big enough for him, and the Imulsion vein. It dripped out of the wall like a syrup and gathered on the ground, glowing so fiercely that his eyes watered. He didn’t look away.

Imulsion had a living smell, though he didn’t know how he knew what _life_ smelled like. As he stared, it appeared to move under its own power, adding to the sensation that he was in the presence of something with a rudimentary mind. The stuff was inside him, inside all of his people, and seeing it outside of a Locust body was almost disturbing. He remembered seeing a picture of a preserved brain in a book, once, and feeling the same way.

There were plenty of reasons for Imulsion to bother him, and many memories it could have pulled from the depths of his mind. He was glad it chose innocuous fluff. He still saw backwards if he got too close to fire or heard something like gunshots. This would have been a lot worse if Imulsion made him see backwards instead of forwards.

Skorge tore a sizeable chunk out of his tunic, knelt in front of the vein, and held the fabric against the leak. The Imulsion was dully warm and took a while to soak through the cloth. He held the saturated rag in his hands, staring at it with a mixture of confusion, incredulity, and dread.

There was no other way to do it but suddenly. He hit his own face with enough force to hurt and dug his talons into his skull, preventing any accidental drops. It was still twenty seconds before he inhaled, inviting the fumes inside instead of letting them passively permeate his sinuses.

He shut his eyes, wary of a growing dizziness and nausea. As he waited in the darkness he lost his sensation of up and down, of his limbs, and of the world. Nothing existed. That was the first step.

He knew to keep breathing, and to not move even though he had no awareness of his body parts. The world had disappeared, but a new one was taking its place.

It was a vast, seamless expanse of Imulsion. He screamed, because for a second he thought there were Lambent everywhere, Lambent crawling, Lambent on him—but it was just Imulsion, and he’d forgotten this part but he was okay. Nothing was going to hurt him or could hurt him, in this place, except mentally.

There was no sense of foreground or distance, but he knew ahead of him was an emptiness filled with glowing fumes. The great worm appeared out of that fog, Their head descending, Their mouth gaping, as if to eat Skorge.

 _“Death,”_ They spoke. Their voice came from inside him, from the ocean, surrounding and filling him with a noise that was like the earth sliding against itself. _“Death comes again. See. See for your people.”_

Lambent were in Upper Nexus. Skorge watched, bodiless, from somewhere above the city. Images and sensations flashed through him so quickly, in such a disjointed fashion, that he couldn’t tell what was going on. It was like his mind was processing poison. Buildings burned. People died. He was terrified, running for his life, but he was also growing cold because he was dying on the street, and he was screaming for someone to save him and trying not to scream because _they would hear_. Lambent were in Nexus; that was all he could grasp.

The Destroyer left his mind, ending Their message by reinforcing the salient point. They let the image of a Lambent Wretch running through an Upper Nexus street linger in his mind, and They had to know kindness, for They hadn’t shown him a single Drudge.

 _“Fight or die,”_ the Destroyer said. _“Destroy fate. This you can do.”_

Then it was over. The endings were always abrupt, his spirit being shoved back into his body without time to acclimate. He had collapsed, laying with his back against the cave wall and the rag over his face. Immediately he swiped it away, not wanting a second vision. One sufficed.

Equally without warning, Skorge started crying. Nexus was going to be destroyed. Where would they go? How many would die? Would the humans accept them on the surface?

 _Destroy fate,_ he thought. That was what the Destroyer told him. They told him the future wasn’t guaranteed—which was a first. A thrill went through him and he stood up so fast he got dizzy. Once it passed, he left the cave, more scared than ever but grimly determined.

Nexus could be destroyed, but it didn’t have to happen. For once in his miserable life he could help people. He could make things right. His brothers would see him for who he really was, not the monster they created in their minds...

All he had to do was get out of Lower Nexus and talk to RAAM.


	3. Adam's Emotional Responses Can't Come to the Phone Right Now; Please Leave a Message After the Tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our daring heroes must contend with their own loved ones in order to proceed on their quests!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have updated the previous two chapters. reasons for edits:
> 
> -indicate passage of time in the Prologue (one year between Karn being attacked and the scene in the council room)  
> -change Junior Chairman to Deputy Chairman  
> -edit the conversation between Adam and Loomis slightly, but not substantially enough as to change the plot  
> -fix capitalization error in chapter 2 title  
> -general sexiness

_The queen was smaller than he expected, yet those pale eyes commanded as much strength as a Drone and were as piercing as daggers. Skorge guessed everyone must have felt the same when meeting her for the first time._

_“Did you do it?” she asked. Sitting upon that high throne, she looked like an Inquisitor herself, but this was the council room, and he wasn’t arguing for his life._

_He felt obligated to answer her honestly. “Does it matter? They’ll believe whatever they want about me.”_

_“Yes, but I’d like to know who I’m dealing with.”_

_“No,” he sighed, exasperated. “It’s not even possible to do what they say I did. Lambent can’t be called. I’ve never seen Lambent in my visions.” He squirmed in his chair, as uncomfortable under her gaze as he was under the weighty glares of the Inquisitors, even if he was much safer. “A-and if they were attracted to me, it wasn’t on purpose. I would never...ever…”_

_Myrrah held up a hand. “I believe you. I also agree with you; the Kantus will believe whatever they wish. It is very difficult to change their minds. I’m about to suggest something that you’re going to find appalling, but I believe you’ll see my point.”_

_Skorge looked up. “What is that, Your Majesty?”_

_“Exile,” she said. Her gaze never wavered, her voice didn’t change. “I propose sending you to Lower Nexus under the pretense of banishment. There are far fewer Kantus in Lower. You can wait all this out and come back once they’ve gotten over...whatever problem it is they seem to have with you.”_

_Suprise and fear kept him from responding; there was no good way to reply. He glanced at RAAM, standing stoic and tall by his side. The Drone’s jaw was tight, his shoulders squared._

_“This isn’t a formal order,” Myrrah said. “It’s an idea. What do you think? Could you live in Lower Nexus until the Kantus forget their grievances?”_

_“They never would,” Skorge muttered. “They won’t. They can’t.”_

_“I’ll be frank with you, Skorge.” Myrrah leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. “I believe the Kantus will kill you if you stay here. They already floated the idea of execution when you were in court.” She nodded towards RAAM. “It took no small effort to get Vrol to back off after your stunt with that machete. You’re lucky you’re walking free.”_

_“I don’t regret it,” RAAM answered, his voice like stones grinding together. “Your Majesty.”_

_“Some of them won’t accept your freedom, even it comes from me,” she went on. “They might take matters into their own hands. I do not mean to alarm you, Skorge. I wouldn’t say this unless I believed the threat to be real, and judging by Vrol’s demeanor, it very much is.”_

_“With intended honor, Queen Myrrah,” Skorge said, “what would be the point? Our world is ending. The Lambent will have us extinct in a couple of seasons.”_

_“Did you see that in a vision?”_

_“No. I didn’t have to.”_

_“Skorge,” RAAM started._

_“I don’t want to go through all this shit just to extend my life by a handful of weeks,” Skorge shouted, turning upon the Drone. “I don’t want to leave you, brother! You’re all I have left! Let me die by your side, RAAM, I don’t want to die all alone in Lower Nexus.”_

_RAAM pulled him forward and crushed him against his chest. Skorge wanted to take comfort, but he knew his brother only did things like this when he was emotionally distraught. There was only one thing that would cause him such distress._

_“I want you to go,” RAAM said._

_“No—but, RAAM—”_

_“When your father came to Khadon with you, two seasons ago, he asked me to be your friend, to look out for you. This is it. This is me looking out for you.”_

_Skorge pushed away just enough to look RAAM in the eye. He had no words, but he hoped the look on his face was imploring enough._

_“Do you remember when we were outside the city, waiting for someone to find us?” RAAM asked. “We were almost out of water. I kept telling you to take it but you refused. They told me you forced it into me after I passed out. I felt like such a failure, Skorge. I couldn’t protect you. I can’t protect you now, from your own people. But going to Lower Nexus would help you. Our fates aren’t guaranteed. We’ll find a way to survive, and I need you there when we start rebuilding.”_

_It was frightening, to be alone, but he realized then that if he died, RAAM would be alone. The thought gave him a peculiar strength. He looked at Myrrah. “I...I accept. Will he be able to visit?”_

_“I don’t see why not.”_

_“I’ll be busy, but I’ll get down there as much as possible.” RAAM gave him a final squeeze, then released him. “You’ll see. It won’t be so bad, and it won’t be forever.”_

 

♦

 

Adam pulled into the estate. The lights were on in the first floor—Jake was home and hadn’t gone upstairs yet. He wasn’t ready for social interaction yet, not when his thoughts were still so tangled and hazy, so he resolved to get to his study as quickly as possible.

The first thing Adam heard when he opened the front door was the TV. He glanced into the den and saw Jake sitting cross-legged on the couch, cradling a large glass between his knees and drinking from it with a silly straw. On the TV, a machine was mechanically wrapping chocolate bars while the narrator described the process.

Adam moved to the kitchen, guiltily hoping his son didn’t notice him. An unopened envelope sat on the table. A happy little jolt went through him when he saw who it was from—Elain. Letters from the Hollow were unpredictable thanks to the difficult travel, this one being almost a week late. It offered a welcome distraction.

It was short:

 

_I hope things have gotten more exciting for you guys up there. Work’s slow around here, by which I mean we haven’t made any progress at all. It’s frustrating and it’s hard to be optimistic when your subjects seem to actively defy your attempts to understand them._

_Remember when I said how huge the Hollows were? How the caves went on forever and you could almost trick yourself into seeing the ceiling as a sky? I don’t feel that way anymore. The Hollows feel tiny when you’ve spent a while down here. No wind or sunlight. It’s a little maddening._

_But good news! I’m rotating out of here next month for the holiday. Be sure to tell the boys. And tell me sometime interesting. How was Jacob’s recital? Any updates about Marcus? What about you? Let me in on some government secrets._

_I love you,_

_Elain_

 

His heart was beating faster, not only from the excitement of hearing from her, but because of her unintentional confirmation of his fears. It seemed Loomis was right about the cure—if Elain was having trouble finding it, then nobody else would be doing any better. Nobody was more dedicated to the Locust’s plight than Elain Fenix, and nobody had better equipment to solve the problem. He wondered if she was the one who reported to the COG about Lambency, if she was the reason Loomis approached him earlier.

When he saw Loomis again, he’d use his position to leverage more resources for her work. If the COG was going to put effort into killing the Locust, they could put equal effort into saving them. In that way, he could support Elain, even while he worked to do something she would have found abhorrent.

He set the envelope down where Jake could find it. He needed to eat but nothing was appealing, so he put two apples in his pockets and would force them down once he was in his study. On the way out of the kitchen, Jake rounded the corner and startled at his appearance.

“Dad! I didn’t know you were home.” He had a slightly alarmed tone, and was probably thinking of the forbidden glass on the couch. Jacob had lighter hair and darker eyes than his brother, and was thinner than Marcus had been at his age.

“I just got back. There’s a letter from Mom in the kitchen.”

“Cool.” Jacob cleared his throat. “I was going to go upstairs just now. I just wanted more chocolate milk. Then I’m going to do my homework and stuff.”

Adam nodded. “I’m going to be in my study for a while. Please keep this glass in the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay…” He slipped past Adam.

Adam had tried harder with Jake, but it still felt like living with a tiny stranger who looked like him. Especially on nights like these, when he was too stressed to try, too drained to do what came unnatural to him. He should have asked how Jake’s day went, or if he needed help with homework, or seen how he wanted to respond to Mom’s letter.

Instead Adam retreated to his study, locked the door, and sank into the large office chair at his desk. He bowed his head into his hands, sinking deeper into the thick snarl of dark emotions that had been building up all day. How was he supposed to react to this? He doubted a web search would yeild answers.

Dear Elain. She must have known what the COG knew, but she wasn’t giving up. In a way, he hated it. There were plenty of people who hated the Locust, who would have relished in the Horde’s painful destruction, but his wife adored them. Why was Adam given the role of Reaper? Why not someone who hated Locust, whose spouse hated Locust?

_The question’s the answer,_ Adam thought suddenly, raising his head. _Those bastards. They know I’ll hesitate. They don’t want random destruction, but they need the option. It really is a last resort for them._ Maybe that was the truth, or maybe he only wanted to believe it. Either way, Adam felt better. He would, in his own way, help guard the Horde against extinction; he wasn’t working in opposition to Elain, but at a right angle to her.

With his mood boosted, he felt well enough to eat his apples. He held one while fishing for a pen and paper. Since his job didn’t start until tomorrow, he would kill time, first by drafting a response to Elain.

_Things have been slow for me as well,_ he wrote. _But in my line of work that’s a good thing! I hope you have something exciting to share by the time this reaches you, but I know you’re working hard. If you’re not progressing the way you want, it’s not your fault._

_Jacob’s recital was great._ _I’m not sure exactly where Marcus is because he’s still in the Inner Hollow. I’ll send you another letter right away if I hear anything. We all miss you and can’t wait for your return._

Adam set the pen down and flexed his hand, his wrist tight. Writing was such an archaic method of communication, but there was no internet, phone, not even as much as a telegram between the Hollows and the surface.

He glanced around the study, looking for something else to occupy his mind. The night was young and he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep soon, so he needed a new distraction. Anything was fine, as long as it wasn’t about his new project, working relationship with Colonel Loomis, or the lies he was going to tell Elain.

 

♦

 

Skorge leaned against the lodge, gasping for breath, one hand splayed over his pounding hearts. The stairs to the third floor seemed like a mountain right now; of all the bad decisions he’d made in his ninenteen seasons, _running home_ was currently number one. His feet were numb, his legs tingled, and an uncomfortable pressure pushed under his hide.

He took the stairs slow. On the first landing he paused, feeling his hearts calming, but the pins and needles under his skin had gotten worse. This happened every time he exerted himself, and it wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

He dragged himself to their room. Nobody was awake and the privacy curtains were drawn, making it dark. He stepped over to his bed, knelt, and grabbed a pack from underneath. It was thick, sturdy, and had many compartments.

Inside were emergency supplies—a little knife, a first aid kit, flint, a torch, a big knife, and in the biggest pocket, a modified Gorgon pistol. He clipped the pack’s belt around his waist and tightened it, noting he’d lost some weight since he wore it last.

When he raised his head, Skain was looking at him. Skorge hissed. “What are you doing awake!”

“Watching you,” Skain answered evenly. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

“No. Be quiet please.”

Skain covered his eyes with a hand. He was grinning. “What are you doing that’s so secret?”

Skorge glanced around at the sleeping forms of his friends. Their dorm had always been one of the emptier ones, and also more static; people rarely came, and even more rarely did they leave. He sighed and turned to Skain.

“I have to go somewhere. It shouldn’t take long, but it’s urgent. I didn’t want to wake you…”

“You didn’t want me to come,” Skain said. “Is it dangerous?”

Skorge averted his gaze for half a second, which he knew was answer enough. He tried to salvage it. “No, not exactly. There is some risk. There’s risk in a lot of things. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Where are you going?” Skain pushed himself up, his teal eyes intense and unwavering. Someone shifted around in their blankets. “Will you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Fine.” Skorge looked around the room again, then drew closer to Skain. “I had a vision by the river. I have to tell RAAM.”

“Just call him.”

“He’s in Upper, Skain. I can’t. I have to go there.”

From the back of Skain’s throat came a low hum, a sound of agitation and excitement. Skorge heard rustling from behind him, then a confused chirp from Dez.

“What are you two doing? Luce! Tial! They’re up to something!”

Skorge growled at Skain, but it was too late to get angry. Within moments, everyone was awake and multiple sets of eyes were staring at him. He sat on the bed next to Skain, their shoulders touching.

“ _I’m_ not up to anything,” Skain said. “He’s the one sneaking around past his bedtime!”

“I think I heard that you were leaving,” Dez said.

“Could we get an explanation?” Luce asked.

Skorge dug his fingers into his thin bicep. “I had a vision. Something’s going to happen to RAAM. I need to warn him.” He struggled to keep his voice from warbling. “It’s _urgent_.”

“You had a vision,” Luce said. “Here?”

“By the river. I went out. I’ve been feeling a pull there for a while but I ignored it and…” Skorge was cut by deep shame. “I can’t ignore it anymore. I shouldn’t have left it for so long. It might already be too late! I can’t sit around here!” The Drones, Dez, and even Skain looked at him. Skorge’s hearts sank. “You don’t believe me.”

The room was silent for a moment. Dez spoke up, “I believe you, but what matters is what you believe. If you think RAAM is in danger, and the only way to contact him is by going to Upper Nexus, then you should go.”

“But not alone,” Skain said.

“You’ve never been to Upper Nexus,” Skorge said.

“Yeah, but I know how to throw a punch.”

“No, I meant…”

Skain’s shoulders slumped. “I could handle it.”

“I don’t want to draw too much attention,” Skorge said. “And I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. It’s best if I go alone.”

Luce was tapping his chin. “What’s the problem with Skain?”

“I’m a Chimera,” Skain muttered. “Chimera _draw attention_.” Skorge glanced at him with sharp guilt.

Luce turned to one of the shelves that lined the walls, rummaging through things. Skorge stood.

“My vision showed a terrible fate for my brother,” he said. “I must go. _Now_. I have everything I need.”

“Here,” Luce said, grasping a long piece of grey fabric in his hand. “Wear this, Skain. It’ll hide your spurs.”

Skain took the fabric from Luce. It was a long, voluminous scarf, the kind designed to go over the head like a hood. He draped it over himself and Luce adjusted it around his shoulders. “As long as nobody looks too close, you look just like any other Kantus.”

Skorge lingered near the door, fussing with the clasps on his pack. “We should go now.”

“Okay.” Skain raised a hand to the others as he walked over. “Don’t mess with my stuff.”

“I wasn’t going to but you had to say that,” Dez replied.

“Get back soon,” Luce said.

“Safe,” Tial rasped, in a voice so low it was basically subvocalized.

“We will,” Skorge said, feeling a twinge of hesitation or guilt. “We’ll get back as soon as possible. See you later.”

Outside, the night was cool and still. The few other dormitories around them were dark, as were the buildings across the street. They lived in a small tunnel jutting from the main Lower Nexus shaft, almost as far as one could get from the city while still being in the city, and besides those scant structures the land was empty. The silence was its own kind of noise.

Skain shivered, swiping his hands up his arms. “I hate being out at night,” he muttered. “It’s so cold.”

“Don’t cut the sleeves off your tunics.”

“What else am I supposed to do if I have a pair of scissors and I’m bored?”

Skorge’s legs began to twinge, and he acutely felt his lack of sleep. They were starting to climb an incline now, which would take them into town, but between there and here, there was nowhere to rest, and only rock and glowing mushrooms for company. He had few ways to distract himself, except for Skain.

“Why did you want to go alone?”

“Why did you want to come?” Skorge heard Skain’s irritated hum.

“Because you wanted to be alone! You never want to be alone!”

“It’s dangerous,” Skorge snapped. “I don’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I thought you said your vision was about RAAM.”

Skorge became uncomfortably aware of his body, concerned he would give away his untruth with a tic. “It was, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t get caught up in it. Not to mention the hostility the city may show to you.”

Skain’s look was suspicious, scrutinizing, but he’d stopped vocalizing. Eventually he took his eyes away from Skorge and observed the ground and walls around them.

_This is like the Inner Hollows,_ Skorge thought. It was a small, fleeting, unbidden thought that rang around the inside of his skull like a bullet. His chest tightened, and he slowed his pace while he glanced around, suddenly taken by unidentifiable uncertainty. He told himself he was in Lower Nexus, not the Hollows; he was fine, safe, with his boyfriend and not his brother, and town was just ahead of them.

Skain, now several feet ahead, had stopped to wait for him. Skorge reached out and took his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing as hard as he could without causing pain. It was true; he didn’t ever want to be alone. That was why he lied.

He thought he’d hidden his vision from everyone to prevent panic, but now he realized he didn’t want to scare Skain out of going with him. Skain’s loyalty had an upper boundary. Skorge’s selfishness did not.

 

♦

 

They followed the road around a bend, the tunnel widening around them while the first intimations of sound drifted to them from town, as low and steady as the rush of blood in the head. The first buildings, squat metal cubes, loomed ahead, and even at this hour, people were bustling through the streets.

Much of Lower Nexus’s structure still resembled a mine. The Corpser-dug main shaft was pitted with smaller tunnels where miners had followed a vein, with wide ramps, carved from natural rock, connecting them to the ground. Roads now covered those paths instead of minecart tracks, and people had placed buildings on every flat surface, giving the town a tiered look. In some places the roads weren’t visible, making the buildings appear to be growing on top and out of each other, climbing the tunnel walls like moss.

Since it was so cramped, there weren’t many escape routes for smells or sounds. Any neighborhood of Lower had a perpetual perfume of bodies and smog and animals and dirt, which was easy enough for a Kantus to ignore, with their weak noses, but not the noise. Footsteps, creaking wheels, clanging metal, speech, vocalizations, half a dozen little noises one couldn’t identify from the din—a young child would get overwhelmed, but Skorge knew how to handle it.

He clung to Skain’s side, and together they slipped through crowds, dodged cart drivers, and kept away from dark alleys. “Are we taking a Reaver?” Skain asked, shouting to be heard—not over the noise, but through Skorge’s tightly shut ears.

“I’m not walking.”

Skain pointed to a building perched high over the main street. A Reaver was poised on the rooftop, prepared to launch. Skorge watched as it threw itself over the edge and plummetted towards the ground, only to rise again, venting gas from its flight organs to propel its massive body through the air. It disappeared with its passengers into the distance.

“I’m glad they built this place up,” Skain said, tugging Skorge in the direction of the stable. “We didn’t have that last season.”

Ten minutes later they entered the building. The front was a waiting area, where Skorge and Skain sat after registering at the desk. They were the only patrons, so it didn’t take long before a suitable Reaver was prepared and the rider summoned them to the takeoff area. After the short respite, climbing the flight of stairs was especially painful.

The Reaver stood patiently on the roof, and at its rider’s command it bent its tentacles, lowering its back towards the ground. Skorge and Skain hoisted themselves onto the saddle, which was warm and smelled like clean leather. He told himself he’d stay awake for the four hour journey, but after he strapped in, he leaned against Skain, his strength fleeing him. He wasn’t awake when they took off.


	4. Phones Are Really Scary and I Try to Avoid Them as Much as Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skorge makes a call; Adam receives one. The world continues to revolve, no matter what is said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally going to be longer with a third section but i realized the whole thing would flow better if the last section was the start of its own chapter. plus, i haven't really started work on it at all and if i waited to finish it this update would have taken forever. as a result, this chapter is a little slow.

Skorge awoke to cold wind cutting into his cheek. He groaned and pressed himself further into the sheltering warmth on his other side, which prompted Skain to hug him around the shoulder. He wanted to doze, but he remembered what he was doing.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Upper Nexus.”

Skorge struggled himself upright, squinting into the air. It was bright; they must have been over the Imulsion sea. He leaned forward for a glimpse of the city.

Upper Nexus was built inside an enormous chamber, upon the many flat shelves that jutted from the walls. Each neighborhood was a separate bauble of light, the more distant ones shining through the fog as though suspended in nothingness. Their destination was the largest neighborhood, currently under them, which was built around the Highway.

Skorge sat back and stared upward, but with so much Imulsion, it was impossible to see the top of the chamber. Beside him, Skain was bouncing a leg. Sitting still must for so long must have been tantamount to torture for him.

“What’d you do while I slept?”

“Eh, I made my own entertainment.”

Skorge instinctively reached for his face.

“Hey! I don’t even have a marker.”

“It shouldn’t be much longer before we land. I chose a station near the temple, and see, that’s it over there.” Skorge pointed at a structure in the middle distance, a massive golden ring depicting a Riftworm suspended on two stone columns.

“I wish we brought food.”

“People who are stranded without food often eat their own toes.” Skorge stuck a hand into his pack. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but when his fingers touched something straight and thin and his stomach constricted, he knew.

He pulled the picture out with its face away from him. Though he was fairly certain of who the subjects would be, he prepared himself before flipping it over. Then he relaxed.

“Who’s that?” Skain asked.

“Me and my twin.”

“Which are you?”

“The one  _ not _ trying to eat a rock. Obviously.” They had to be three or four seasons old. Skorge hadn’t changed much; he still had that intense, angry stare. Skaff looked pretty happy, and he wondered if that was still true too.

“I can’t believe I never told you about my twin,” Skorge said.

“You did, but I didn’t know you were identical. Skaff lives in Upper Nexus, right? We could meet.”

“We won’t be here that long, Skain.”

They began descending among steeples and towers and balconies, becoming enveloped in civilized light. The Reaver swung suddenly and slammed its tentacles into a hard surface, causing Skain to yelp in surprise and cling to Skorge.

They jumped off and thanked the rider. Skorge turned to the city to look at it, just for a moment. He didn’t remember much of Upper, but he thought it looked good. Where Lower Nexus was constructed of metal and pragmatism, Upper Nexus was like a sprawling piece of art, a massive living sculpture that made use of stone of every color and texture.

It was as crowded as Lower, people swarming the streets beneath, all the little noises combining into the dense roar of civilization. The jewel of the Horde didn’t look like it had weathered its people’s horrors. Skorge had the impression that it would stand forever, an eternal sentinel, light against unholy light. Eveyone who lived here was just a visitor.

“Where to?” Skain asked.

“When I was sent to Lower Nexus, RAAM gave me some contact information, in case I ever needed him. He couldn’t tell me the location of the Elite headquarters, since that would have put me at risk, but he gave me a number to call. There should be a communicator in the lobby.”

“That’s good. It’s...really bright out there.” Skain’s voice had an edge to it. He wasn’t used to this kind of stimulation.

“There should be darkening goggles in the lobby as well. Let’s go.”

They went downstairs. This lobby was more crowded than the other, so Skorge had to wait to use one of the communicators. They were box-like mechanisms, set into one corner away from the doors and closed in with privacy walls. They were one of Upper Nexus’s many unique quirks.

When it was his turn, Skorge stepped up to the screen and keyed in the number. Writing the message was awkward and took him a while and he grew self-conscious. He kept it brief— _ It’s Skorge. Come talk. Very urgent. _ The building’s address was automatically included, so he sent it like that.

There was a bench by the front door, where he and Skain waited. Skain kept getting antsy and pacing around, unaware of the people giving him looks. Skorge was a little nervous himself. The longer they hung around, the greater the chance of someone picking a fight.

He had no idea how long they’d have to wait. RAAM had promised that any messages would be seen quickly, and his Therons were ordered to wake him if any messages arrived from Skorge. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night, then, but he could still be busy, or the Theron in charge of checking the emergency messages might be slacking off.

Skorge needn’t have worried, though, because it felt like only a few minutes passed before he heard a commotion outside. People shouted, and what sounded like a Reaver hissed back at them.

“That would be him,” Skorge said, standing.

Outside, a plump green Omega crouched in the middle of the street, snapping its jaws at a small crowd of angry Drones and Kantus. Atop the Reaver, its rider, RAAM, was yelling something indistinct and gesticulating at his surroundings. When he looked up and saw Skorge, he shut up, jumped off his steed, and with a click of his fingers sent it into the air.

“Fuck,” Skain whispered. “He’s bigger than I remember!”

“Yes.” Skorge recalled RAAM being the height of the average Kantus a few seasons ago. Now he was bigger than a Boomer, and his clothing strained at his body, implying it was a recent development and he hadn’t had time to convert his entire wardrobe.

The crowd, quelled by the Reaver’s disappearance, glared at RAAM as he marched by them. They were ignored. He cleared the distance between himself and Skorge in seconds, swinging his hand up as he approached. Skorge lifted his own in response, slamming his palm into RAAM’s. His hand was swallowed and crushed.

“Ow. You were quick.”

“Of course, brother,” RAAM said, moving his hand to clasp Skorge’s shoulder. “You here about Zaaya? How’d news reach you so quickly?”

Skorge had been ready to launch into business, but faltered. “Who’s Zaaya?”

RAAM’s brow furrowed. “My son? He was born, uh, seven or eight hours ago. I sent a message to you.”

“Oh my god!” Skain exclaimed, clapping. “Congratulations!”

RAAM nodded at him.

“He’s early.” Skorge twittered. “Is there a problem with him?”

“Yeah.” RAAM sounded a bit distant, but he yanked himself back into the present, locking eyes with Skorge. “Yeah, but he’ll be fine. If you’re not here for Zaaya, then what?”

He glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” A normal street may have been fine, but RAAM’s entrance had attracted attention. Many people were still staring and whispering.

RAAM snapped his fingers again, and the Omega came swooping down. It landed in the same spot, scattering the gathered people and crushing an unmanned cart a second time. “Climb on, both of you.”

Skorge huffed. “I don’t want to go to the Core, RAAM. I only need to deliver a message.”

“I know. I was thinking of a secluded rooftop.”

They got on, Skorge and Skain having to configure themselves at a unique angle to get around the gun attached to the backseat. A couple uncomfortable minutes later, they were on a roof some distance from the station.

Skorge hopped to the ground and decided not to wait. “I had a vision. I saw Lambent breaking into Nexus, RAAM. We have to do something, and now.”

He heard Skain’s surprised chirp behind him.

“A vision?” RAAM barked, clambering off the saddle. “The gods finally started to tell you stories again?”

“RAAM!”

The massive Drone smiled. “Brother, look at the city. Look how it shines around us. We are safe. The Lambent are on the decline, because of humanity. Do you doubt them? Because I don’t, and I know you don’t doubt  _ me _ .”

“Last time, they were on the decline too. Then they showed up out of nowhere, attacked Karn, killed—did we ever figure out how many they killed?”

“It appeared they were losing numbers because we didn’t know what they were really doing. Now there aren’t as many of them because we kill them faster than they can replenish their numbers.”

Skorge lightly pounded RAAM’s chest with a fist. “I saw it last time too. I saw what was going to happen to Khadon and everyone and I didn’t tell you, and people…” He paused, adrift in himself, unable to see the shore. “Important people died, RAAM. Please. Please listen to me.”

RAAM’s expression softened. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll order more patrols.”

“Thank you.”

“On one condition.”

Skorge stiffened.

“You stay in the Core with me, to see if your vision comes true.”

“RAAM—”

“And you’ll want to see Zaaya, too.”

Skorge looked at Skain. His eyes were narrowed to slits.

“I thought you said something was going to happen to RAAM,” he said.

“Something  _ is _ going to happen to RAAM,” Skorge replied.

Skain looked at RAAM. “He didn’t tell us that the whole fucking city is going down. Only after we get here!”

Skorge winced. “I’m sorry…”

Skain walked forward and put a hand on Skorge’s back plates.

“I was scared.”

“It’s okay.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t want to come with me. That I would be alone.”

Skain rubbed a circle on him. “It’s fine.”

“So,” RAAM cut in, “do you agree to my terms? The Core is quite comfortable, I assure you.”

“I don’t think Skain will want to now anyway,” Skorge said.

“Actually, I do,” Skain said. “I don’t wanna fly a Reaver all the way back to Lower. Come on. I’m tired and you are too.”

“...Fine.”

“Ha ha! Excellent!” RAAM pranced towards his Reaver. “Come! You’ll have a great time, and everything will be okay. I promise!”

Skorge permitted a cheery little tweet. “When have you ever led me wrong?” His hearts were unburdened for the first time since he began to feel pulled into that cave. For the first time since then, he was hopeful.

 

♦

 

The phone rang in his dream. Adam jolted upright in the chair and looked at the phone, but his eyes were crossed with sleep and the caller ID screen was too bright for him read. He directed a heavy hand around the receiver and answered.

“Hello?” he said thickly, glancing at the clock. It was just after six, the sky still dark.

“Hello? Is this Adam Fenix?”

“Yes.”

“My name’s Arthur Rohan. I worked with Elain at La Croix University.”

“Yes, I remember you. Sorry. I was asleep.”

“I apologize. Late night?”

“Insomnia. So, what is this about?”

“Well…” Rohan paused, and a shuffling sound came over the line. “Something has happened…”

“Oh, god.” Adam gripped the armrest.

“They sent out formal letters, apparently, but I know my mail gets here first and, well, I couldn’t stand the thought of knowing it before you. You’re her husband, after all.”

Adam’s heart pulsed. “What has Elain done?”

“Nothing.” Rohan sighed. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes. Just tell me.”

“According to the contents of this letter, Doctor, Elain died two nights ago, at about two AM.”

He breathed out, like the spirit was leaving him. He clutched the phone but it no longer felt real. “You’re serious, aren’t you? She’s dead.”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t say. They probably have to keep it secret for now.”

Adam made a noise that was almost like laughter. “Of course. Yeah. She’s dead. It’s a secret.”

“Doctor Fenix?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have anyone there with you?”

“My son.” He blinked. “My son is here. Not here in the room. He’s somewhere.”

“Okay.” Rohan was quiet for a second, and Adam was very still. “She had some things here, at the university. Will you come pick them up? Ah, not that they have to be moved, or anything. They’re for you, you know.”

“I’ll get there sometime. Don’t know when.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you with such terrible news.”

“I had to find out sometime.” He blinked again, thinking of Jake. “I have to go.”

“Of course. You know the university’s hours. Just swing by any day for her things. And Adam…”

“Yes.”

“She was an amazing person. All of Sera feels her absence.”

Adam hung up. He watched as the sky lightened, became blue. The moons went low and faded, dulled by the rising sun. A new day had come. Did he dream what just happened? He checked the call history—it had to have been real. Elain was dead. Elain  _ had been _ dead, for a whole day and some change.

At some point he heard Jake moving through the house. A heavy, cutting sensation went through him. How was he supposed to tell his sons? He’d told Jacob yesterday that Mom was coming home next month.

_ I don’t have to deal with it yet, _ he thought.  _ I can keep it from them for now. Find out more information. Maybe this was a horrible mistake… _ He felt disgusting and selfish and knew at once he would do it. He hid in his study from his son, like his son was an intruder, like his son was an enemy.

When he heard the front door open and close, Adam got up. The house was his own for now. He could not fathom the idea of eating, nor of taking a shower, but he forced himself through the latter process. It did not make him feel anything, even when he made the water extra hot.

He stood in the living room, unsure of what to do with himself, of what people were supposed to do in these circumstances. Not in terms of grief, but what to physically, literally do. When his father died, his mother had handled it; when she died, her sisters had handled it. Adam had nothing to do with his aunts, so he wouldn’t take care of them when their time came. Who was he supposed to call?

_ Elain’s brother, Malcolm, _ Adam thought.  _ I’ll call him. He needs to know and he can help. _

He had to go by the university, and he had to figure out how to get to the Outer Hollow, so he could speak with the facility operators. The fastest way to get in contact with anyone down there was to go. He had work. Would Loomis let him skip today, even though it was his first day on a new project? When was a good time to call Malcolm?

_ Now, _ he thought, and began moving to the study.  _ Call him now. You’re sinking. You’re drowning. _

Then he’d go to the DRA and talk to Loomis. He’d go to the university and get Elain’s things. He’d go the Outer Hollow and get Elain.


End file.
